


Breathe Me

by lizzehboo



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-18 08:11:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/877556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizzehboo/pseuds/lizzehboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Motel California. Scott can't get the smell of gasoline out of his nose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meatlowf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meatlowf/gifts).



> Ahhhhh I was bored but I still don't know if this is any good. I just asked a friend if she wanted some Scisaac because obvs they are amazing but my writinggggg....
> 
> I hope she likes it at least. :P

Scott grimaces against the bus window as it pulls into the school parking lot. He still smells like gasoline. No matter how hard he scrubbed himself in the shower, he can't seem to get it out of his skin. It intoxicates him and makes him feel nauseous.

He was really hoping the ride back wouldn't be as bad as the ride there. So much for that.

Stiles is dead to the world, his head thrown back over the back of the seat, snoring. Danny and Ethan both look a little annoyed by it, and maybe a little with each other – lover's quarrel? Danny's got his headphones in and he's trying to read. Stiles's snoring is loud though, and probably moreso to the alpha werewolf. Scott's just used to it, he guesses. Lydia and Allison are deadly quiet and making sure not to mention... the... _thing._ Scott swallows and glances up toward the front of the bus where Isaac and Boyd are sitting. They're about in the same state, miserable and silent.

Hell of a trip.

When the bus comes to a stop, Scott shoves Stiles awake and hops to his feet. He grabs his bag and slings it over his shoulder and stands, waiting for Isaac in the parking lot.

“You sure you guys don't want a ride?” Stiles asks, like he really doesn't want to leave Scott alone for a second. Ever again, really. He can read it all over Stiles's face and antsy movements. “Like completely sure? Because it's no trouble at all. Like I mean zero trouble. You can even stay at my house if you want. You can have my bed.”

“Stiles, I'm fine,” Scott says in earnest, because he loves Stiles, and Stiles is probably the greatest friend he's ever had, but he really doesn't want to talk about how they both nearly burned alive because of him.

In fact it's like the last thing he ever wants to think about ever. Fucking. Again.

“You're gonna walk though?” Stiles's voice is small.

“I'll have Isaac with me. It'll be fine.” Scott pauses, then hugs his best friend tightly, because, yeah, it's been a hell of a couple of days. Stiles hugs back and has trouble letting go. He's always had trouble letting go.

Isaac approaches after a long couple of minutes and pries Stiles off of him. “Go home, Stilinski.”

“ _Stiles_ ,” Lydia is calling, hands on hips. “Are you taking me home or not?”

That's his cue to leave. Stiles still looks hesitant, but he lumbers off, shoulders hunched. Isaac and Scott start hoofing it down the road. It's very, very quiet. The crickets chirp and cicadas buzz around them, the only noise besides their feet hitting pavement. Isaac is frowning, the moonlight and streetlights catching his face in crazy angles, making his features sharper than usual, his eyes more intense and brooding. Scott wants to say something, because they were both victims to that damn hotel, but he can't find words. He just smells gasoline. Fucking gasoline.

“You smell terrible,” Isaac says suddenly, and it's so casually spoken that Scott actually stops walking and falls behind.

“What?”

Isaac turns back, raising his eyebrows. “Sorry if I offended you. But you still smell bad.”

“You really think repeating it will make you sound sorry?” Scott asks, a smile quirking at the side of his lips.

“I thought you knew,” Isaac replies, shrugging. He shoves his hands in his pockets and turns back.

Scott catches up to him with a sigh. “I did. It's... it's gasoline.”

They had regrouped after the entire event, but there hadn't been a lot of talking. Bare minimum stuff.

Isaac looks at the ground, tense. “Why do you smell like gasoline, Scott? Why was Stiles so clingy back at school?”

“I don't want to talk about it.” Scott's answer comes out quicker than he intends. Isaac looks a little taken aback.

“There's something you need to learn, Scott,” he says softly, slowing his pace to a stop and sitting on the curb. “Sit down because you need to learn it right now.”

Isaac looks a little green, like the idea of what he's going to talk about is making him sick.

“When... when things get really bad, Scott – you... you have to know how to preserve yourself. You can't get dragged into the dark. You can't. Because... because living is important.”

Scott immediately tears up, but he swallows it down, his heart hurting. He thinks of the things that went through his head, seeing his mother's bloody corpse on the ground. He thinks of the responsibilities that comes with being an alpha, and the danger, and he's still not ready for it. He's not ready to deal with Derek's death – whether or not that's an actuality or not at this point has yet to be known. He's just sick of the whole thing.

He wasn't lying when he told Stiles he wanted things to go back to the way they were. Sometimes being the wolf is just... it's too much. He's a fucking teenager. He's been trying to get his grades up and live as normal a life as possible, but that doesn't happen in Beacon Hills, and it doesn't happen to a teenage werewolf. Now he's got all of this... this _stuff_ on him, and he just doesn't want to deal. But he doesn't have a choice. If he doesn't, people die. And the worst part is, even when he does deal with it, people are still dying. He's not feeling much like a hero or an alpha or anything right now.

“See, you and Boyd? You two cracked under the pressure, under the weight of misery. But you're forgetting that you're both human – and humans can handle a fuckton of misery, man.”

“Stiles said he found you under the bed,” Scott says quietly taking a seat next to him, his knees a little wobbly.

“Yeah...” Isaac scratches at the curls on his head. “When... when things got bad at home, I'd always find a place to hide. Most of the time he'd find me, but sometimes he wouldn't. So.” He rolls his eyes up, a tragic smile playing on his features. “You have to find a reason to keep going. It's kind of like an anchor, I guess.”

“What was your reason?” Scott asks. “Why didn't you try to kill yourself that night?”

Isaac tears up and tries his hardest to smile through it. “Honestly? Because the idea of them putting my body in a little box scares the hell out of me.”

Devastation pours over Scott. Of all the things to use...

“Isaac...” he murmurs.

“It worked didn't it?” He sniffs, standing up and heading down the sidewalk at a quicker pace. “Not the greatest way to go, but I didn't end up dead or anything.” He lets out a little breath of a laugh. “I mean, my greatest fear actually saved me. Maybe I'll be more useful if Wolfsbane comes in to play.”

Scott scrambles after him. “That doesn't mean anything good, Isaac.”

“Scott, your problem is that you care too much. You're so focused on preserving others that you don't do it for yourself. You need people. Well, people need you too.”

They've reached his house, and Scott pushes the key into the lock and lets them both in. His mother is on the night shift, so the house is dark.

“I know that... God, do I know that,” Scott breathes, running his hands down his face. Because he really does and frankly, he's not really sure he wants it.

“You're... you're good, Scott,” Isaac says. “You're too good.”

“You're telling me to stop caring?” He's considering it.

“No. Just to... stop taking it all on yourself. It's like you've been striving to be the best at everything. And you don't even realize that you already are.”

“I don't want anymore people to die,” Scott whispers, and the entire event is coming back to him in painful waves. “I swear to God. I saw Deucalion and my mom. And I just keep thinking that people are going to die if I don't _do something,_ but I don't know what to _do!_ The only person that's ever seemed to have any answers for me is Derek, and fuck if he knows. He doesn't know. We don't even know where he is or if he's even alive.” He shakes his head. “And I just.. I remember drenching myself in the gasoline. I remember lighting the flare and just standing there, and Stiles said I'd have to take him with me... He was going to burn to death _with_ me. I don't...” Scott takes a long breath. “I don't want people throwing their lives down for me.”

“Is that just your job?” Isaac asks after a moment. “Or can other people get in on that? Because I don't think it's a huge line.” He closes the door and they're standing in the dark. It's pitch black, but they can both see. Superhuman abilities are convenient sometimes. “You think someone like me is worth dying for but you're not? Don't be insane. You need to think you're worth dying for, Scott. You have to. Because that's what makes it worth living.”

“Are you sure?” Scott's not. He doesn't think he's anything special. He doesn't want people thinking he's anything special. He's been striving and fighting and clawing for normalcy for months, and now Isaac is telling him he needs to think he's fucking amazing?

“That's how you make me feel,” Isaac says quietly. Scott's breath hitches in his throat. “Doesn't anyone make you feel that way? Anything? It doesn't have to be a person, Scott. It can be a fucking breakfast cereal. I don't care. I just want you to be alive.”

Isaac is trembling. Scott can tell. Or maybe _he's_ trembling and his vision is shaky. Maybe he's not as certain as he thought. In a second they've got their arms around each other and they're just standing there clinging to each other in the darkness of the house. Scott squeezes his eyes shut and listens to Isaac's heartbeat.

_B-bump_

_B-bump_

_B-bump_

It's steady. It's even. It's comforting.

It's one of the only things in his life right now that feels consistent.

Isaac buries his nose in Scott's hair and they breathe each other in for a long time. Isaac smells like soap and that spicy tea he carries around in a thermos most of the time. And he smells like detergent and Starburst and anything but _fucking gasoline._

He doesn't want to let go. So he doesn't.

“Just hang on,” Isaac says softly, and his throat sounds raw to Scott's ears. “For as long as you have to. It'll all be okay.”

And taking in Isaac's smell, feeling the heat from his hands on his back, Scott starts to think that it might be.


End file.
